


zephyr

by ikijai



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brothers, Drinking, Gen, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Team Bonding, ignoring the post-credit scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikijai/pseuds/ikijai
Summary: Thor is king of anything but a place, anything but something tangible.





	zephyr

**Author's Note:**

> It's taken me way too long to write for Thor. Thanks Taika Waititi for undoubtedly making me want to.

Thor is king of anything but a place.

Thousands depend on him for things he cannot deliver set adrift in the blackest depths of the universe. It’s been days since the ship departed, days since everything Thor thought tangible went up in flames and time began to taunt him. The image is inked into his temple, pounding harder than the thunder in his veins. His vision is half dark, half distorted, yes – but he saw every part of the only true home he’d ever known turn to dust. Its daylight is dimmed, its foundations never to be built back up. It twists his stomach into knots to think of it as anything other than thriving, inflamed by some divine intervention he tried to prevent only to cause in the end. A kingdom of lies is what they leave behind. It’s ironic, he thinks. If irony is some cruel joke played by the Norns to teach him a lesson about placing trust in things.

Now, the remaining Asgardians and few Sakaarans look to him upon the makeshift throne he can’t help but to think he doesn’t deserve. They kneel to him with bright eyes dimmed – a thousand drifters traumatized beyond undoing. They're on track for the time being, but he cannot tell them Earth is their promised destination. He cannot tell them there will be no danger on this journey.

Years ago, he’d pictured bountiful hunts alongside the Warrior’s Three until the end of his days. He’d pictured a proper coronation, a crown and title bestowed upon him when the time came and he deserved it. Deeper down, he’d imagined a non-traitorous father, something akin to an icon teaching him the rights and wrongs to kingship. He thinks of a younger brother not consumed by jealousy.

In some parallel universe, things would’ve been different. Loki’d be by his side through everything. They’d be a team, wouldn’t divide when being in each other’s presence became a task.

Instead, Loki does all the things he didn’t want. He turns the corners of this ship with an ease too distinct to be purposeful, ducking his head and dissolving from sight whenever Thor tries to talk to him a tone anything other than indifferent. They don’t discuss Odin or Asgard or what they’ll do if this all goes wrong. They don’t mourn or joke or jest together. Thor thinks they might stop talking entirely – thinks his brother might stage an intervention when he inevitably gets too bored or tired.

He thought being king would mean the bifrost still intact, the smiling faces of his people telling him he possessed the power to keep every threat from happening. Instead, time is a knife to the gut, digging deeper the more he realizes there is nothing he can say or do to justify the things that’ve transpired in the matter of days.

Thor did not think being king would look like this.

––

Distribution of resources proves difficult. This ship wasn't meant to provide for so many, and they're understocked. There's just enough water to last a terrifyingly slim number of days. Heimdall oversees the steering of the ship while Thor hands out packages and warnings not to use them up too quickly on the observation deck. The majority thank him, trembles to their hands and voices when they do. Others silently accept what's offered, disappointment plastered across their features and no intention to hide it.

The whole thing leaves an unpleasant taste at the back of Thor’s throat.

–– 

Korg is the first to break the thick tension surrounding the throne. Thor hears him dragging his boldered form over before he turns.

“Hey, man – uh, pardon me, your _majesty_.”

“That isn't necessary,” Thor insists. “Thor is fine.”

Korg shrugs his tight shoulders. “Whatever you say, man. Yeah. Nearly forgot what I was doing, there. I've been meaning to talk to you. The size of this ship is insane, eh? There's so much to do.” The Kronian’s tone is jovial despite the odds.

Thor doesn't think he's ever been upset. In keeping with the mood, he drudges up a grin. “Thinking of organizing that revolution?”

Korg is the only one aboard the ship tall enough to have to duck to meet Thor’s level. “Unfortunately, this one isn't going too well. Too much ink. Not enough paper.”

“There is plenty of paper on Earth,” Thor tells him. He doesn't think about the declaration he's just made. The one in which they make it and time doesn't decide their fate. He inhales for a moment, shutting his eye, then: “You can bring justice to Doug and everyone else who died at the hands of that dictator.”

Korg seems to ponder it, thumb pressed to his jaw. “That does sound good.”

Thor lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. He'd expected the typical line of questioning, the inquiries the youth have been bombarding him with since the first day: _What is Midgard like? Will there truly be a home for us there? Together?_ Korg is different from anyone else on this ship.

“Yes, it does.”

“You never did tell me if you were interested in joining.”

Thor’s smile drops a bit, but it otherwise doesn't falter. He doesn't tell Korg uprise is pointless now that Sakaar is light years in the distance, doesn't need to be the cause of more disheartening. “I'll think about it, my friend.”

––

He drags himself around the ship, imitating a tall stance just so the people will understand that he's trying despite the difficulty of it all. They can't see him tired or wounded.

He's got a front to present, so he does.

The people, young and old alike, already keep their distance from the throne. They tiptoe behind it like it'll scorn them if they dare to inch forward. They'd panic the instant they discovered he's just as unsettled as they are.

They glance at him with a juxtaposition of hope and diligence, sadness twinged in uncertainty. There is zero thrill to terror plain as day in the eyes of the people that depend on him. It's understandable that they're on edge. Unlike him, their fear is justified. Their previous king built a kingdom upon quell and death years before they would've known it. The instant the true heir arrived things turned dire. Perhaps it's his own inherent insecurity, but he thinks they look at him like some tragic hero destined to be just like those before him. And if that's true, why in all of Yggdrasil should they trust him?

Thor knows it's his own internalized judgment, his own disappointment and no one else's, that's holding him back. He's terrified to fail.

Despite it all, he's still got Heimdall’s trust and guidance. He's got the Valkyrie’s and Korg’s and kind of Banner’s and – and Loki’s, he tells himself. Because even on a ship this size his brother cannot possibly turn every corner in time to avoid him.

––

Thor discovers the Valkyrie drinking toward the part of the ship nobody else dares to traverse. It's dark, difficult to spot her still form until she looks him directly in the eye. It doesn't take the power of mindsight to know that she is still dedicated to keeping herself hidden from others.

The drink she’s sipping is definitely not the first of today.

Thor doesn't say anything even when she turns to shoot a tantalizing glare his direction. He just takes a seat beside her, inhaling deeply, letting his tense shoulders fall for the first time in days. He takes it as a good thing that she doesn't tell him to _find his own place to be_ in any not-too-kind fashion.

It's only when she hands him a drink from the table in front of them that he utters, “May I join you?”

“You've already joined me.”

The intoxicating scent of old whiskey leaves something to be desired, but the warrior beside him doesn't twitch at what she's used to. He is unsure of what he drinks, but it causes a tipsy jab in his gut so he downs it without tasting it.

Thor must look as terrible as he feels, because his companion tilts her head, timbre deep and sincere when she says, “What dragged you to the pits?”

He ignores the inquiry, doesn't know how to say _my thieverous father is dead, my kingdom is gone and I don't know what to do_ without it sounding pitiful. Instead, he lets his head thump forward onto the table. He peers over at the unending line of intoxicants, sees the significant dent the Valkyrie’s already made in the stock.

It only makes sense that she's back here. There's drinks for miles and no one to disturb her.

“You've been keeping this to yourself.”

“I didn't think anybody else aboard this wretched thing would be interested in getting shit-faced after –” she interrupts herself, detecting Thor’s dread as if it's physically there. It's a delicate topic, a wound still fresh and oxidizing. Instead, she decides on: “Privacy is difficult to come by these days.”

“I'll drink to that,” he utters.

The Valkyrie keeps her distance, watching him down his third bottle with keen eyes. “Disappointed?”

Yet again, he dodges the question. “I understand why you drink so much,” he tells her, feeling thick headed.

“It's okay if you don't want to talk about it –whatever your issue is. But I don't think that's why you're down here.”

Thor scoffs. “I've no problem talking about my issues.”

“First time on the job a bit tough, your majesty?” she teases. When he doesn't joke back, she drops it, eyes downcast before training themselves back on his. “It's difficult, I know. I've watched king falls under their own power in detail, and with much less to deal with. That's something not many can come back from.” She pauses for an instant, tacking on, “Even the best of them.”

Instinctual defensiveness colors Thor’s tone. “Is that a warning?”

“Just an observation, really. I've been around for quite some time.” There's a smirk threatening to show through her tough exterior. “Besides, I’d think you'd be used to it by now. It's been _days_.”

Thor’s defenses trip over themselves. He thumps his head on the table once more, his surroundings distorted due to more than just his lack of depth perception. He turns his head sideways to look at her. “Then why don't you try being king?”

The Valkyrie busts out into laughter the instant Thor’s eyebrows knit together. He winces when the motion pulls at the unhealed skin around his dead socket. “You're drunk, Lord of Thunder. And it is unkind to you. Not to mention totally killing the tranquility. If I'd known you couldn't handle the hard stuff I’d’ve kicked you out.”

Thor says nothing. The warrior gives a transcendent eye roll.

“I can't tell if you're kidding,” she utters around her drink, throwing it back with a swiftness perfected over years. “Either way – thanks, but no thanks. It's a touching offer. But as you can see,” she drags out, waving the bottle in her tight grip back and forth until it makes Thor dizzy. “I've got much more trying things to attend to.”

They sit in stoic silence until the quiet is less tranquil and more disturbing.

“This isn't so bad,” he says. “Drinking to forget.”

“Don't get used to it.”

Thor takes it as meaning she'd prefer to drink on her own, but after some time, she utters, “The more you do it, the less it works. Instead of being distracted you'll just be too numb to tell the difference.”

 _You'll just be too numb to tell the difference_ stays in Thor’s mind for the entirely of the day and well into the next. By the Norns, it's the truth.

––

He'd been wrong.

It turns out Loki can avoid him as long as he pleases. And he does, for days and days until Thor quits keeping track. His brother disappears through walls, invents fake images of himself in places he isn't with a daunting smirk, teeth like the daggers he so impulsively throws around. Thor’s knuckles tighten in frustration, jaw clenching shut each time he falls for the illusion.

The God of Mischief isn't done with his tricks.

––

If he knew whether it were day or night, he'd surmise that he's been in his tight quarters for the entirety of both. He tries to sleep on Heimdall’s implicit orders, but his dreams only intensify the worry and distress he can't keep back. He sees his father invading other realms, forcing thousands to kneel before taking what's theirs. He dreams of Loki vanishing from the ship without so much as a departing farewell. The people grow tired of being unimpressed, try to overthrow him by sheer number. The ship is destroyed by its own lack protection. One by one, the people diminish. His friends die because he isn't there. He is the only one left, no defenses intact.

Thor jolts awake with a tightness in his chest. He breathes hard and long and tells himself it isn't a tear that trickles down his face.

––

  
There's something different about the Valkyrie when he bumps into her on the observation deck. There's no dizziness to her balance, no drink held tight between her fingers. It's odd to see the warrior stripped of the defining trait.

Neither of them turns or pretends not to see the other. They don't exchange glares, don't express disinterest. It's progress, Thor thinks. They might even be friends.

There are things he wants to ask her that don't involve tentativity. He wants to know what her true name is because it isn't Scrapper 142. He wants to ask what she meant when she said she'd watched kings fall _in detail_. He doesn't. It'll be a talk for some other day.

“Things’ve been okay out here?” he says instead.

“As okay as things are going to be, I guess,” she utters.

He expects to see judgment upon her face, but there is none.

“Korg?” he inquires.

The Valkyrie’s dark eyes train themselves on Thor’s remaining one. It's difficult to tell whether she's displeased by his insistence on talking or if she's just as tired as he is. “Do you intend to go through the whole list?”

Thor immediately shakes his head, leaning over the dashboard.

“Just fine by Korg standards, then,” she says. “He's staging a rebellion of some kind. Requested that you join.”

“I've been informed. Banner?”

The warrior shakes her head in disbelief, but keeps talking. “That's a bit of a different situation. I can't believe you didn't tell me he was –”

“Banner is, uh,” Thor interjects, trying to find the proper words to describe his friend and teammate without being insulting. “He's kind of _insecure_ about it.”

There's a twinkle in her eye when she says, “Understatement of the millennium.”

It's unfamiliar, makes Thor’s lip twitch.

Her tone is teasing, posture at ease before she pulls herself up taller. She makes to disappear from the observation deck before turning back to him. “While it's on my mind, how's Lackey holding up?”

The puzzlement on his face inclines her to elaborate.

“He's your brother isn't he?”

“Oh – yes,” Thor nods, understanding. “But it's –” He stops himself talking. It's some kind of joke, he decides. “I'm unsure, to tell you the truth. We've not spoken in days.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” She's turned toward the darkness when she says it so he can't pick apart the truth in her eyes. “I haven't seen much of anyone, what with the thousands of people blending everything together.”

“You've twice seen me on this journey,” Thor says.

“Ah, yes,” she shoots back, tone dipped in sarcasm. “I should consider myself lucky to have been in your kingly presence.”

Thor snorts, jostling into her before thinking about it. “I could un-disband the team, if you'd like.”

“I think we're better off disbanded.”

Thor’s lip twitches again. “I think deep down you –”

“ _Don't_ push it,” the Valkyrie warns. “I just don't have much to do. Talking helps to pass the time. Besides, if I recall correctly, and I think I do, _you_ are the one who began talking first. Twice.”

“Yes, but –”

“That was a definitive statement, Thor,” she interjects. “There are no buts.”

Thor throws his hands up in mock defeat, to which the warrior tilts her head defensively. “Don't you have the throne to attend to? Tears to dry?”

“Don't you have a drink to nurse?”

“Touché.”

Thor talks without thinking because old habits die hard. “Why is it that you're not drinking today?”

“I wanted to invest time to think. Sans bullshit,” she tells him simply, isn't looking at him when she does. “You know,” she says, tone only kind of teasing, “since the amount of alcohol I intake will kill me one day.”

Thor doesn't think she notices his discomfort.

He takes a deep breath. “I didn't get to tell you this before, but I'm sorry they died.” He says it because he knows this kind of teasing is a defense mechanism and that it's difficult to get over something so trifling. “Do tell me if I've spoken out of turn.”

She doesn't seem taken aback. She shrugs it off like just about everything else since they've known each other, picking at a zipper. “It was years ago. Everything's an obstacle, isn't it? You've just got to get over it. Besides, the witch who killed them is dead. Eye for an eye type of thing – no offense.”

“None taken.”

It's only them on the deck after a while, most of the others heading off to tend to individual tasks.

Out of nowhere, the Valkyrie says, “You should talk to your brother, though” as if she'd been thinking it the whole time. “I know you'd prefer to be distracted or pretend to hate each other – whatever it is you’re doing, but I think you should know you're not the only one throwing themself into things they shouldn't. You need to talk, and I think Loki needs it just as much as you do.”

Thor scoffs, but his throat itches. “Believe me, my brother does not want to speak to me. He's disappeared from sight whenever I try.”

She turns to him incredulously. “Norns,” she utters. “You're both dense. Why do you think it is that he keeps letting you see him just before he disappears?”

“If he wanted to talk, he’d come to –”

“He wants you to go to him, Thor.” She says it like it's plain as day. “He wants to talk, yes, but he wants it to be _your_ decision.”

“What do you know of it?”

“I told you I'm observant,” she says. “And I've been observing the pair of you tiptoeing around each other like kids since day one all because of some family dilemma you wish to ignore. It's bringing you both down, and it's killing the entire spirit of the ship. The king being so droopy and sad. It's just depressing.”

The warrior’s eyes are genuine, tone shifting from thick to thin in a manner he'd yet to witness. There are no knives, physical or metaphorical. Just truth. It hits Thor like a freight train. He’s been turning his back too.

They've deprived themselves of so much just by being too immature to confront their demons directly.

He goes to open his mouth, to thank her, but she shakes her head determinately, jabbing a knuckle at him. “Don't thank me. Just do it.”

––

  
It isn't difficult to find Loki’s private quarters on his own. The issue isn't discovering the door, it’s whether or not his brother will be on the other side.

He doesn't knock. Instead, he pulls the dense metal open with a pair of jittery fingertips. It takes a moment, but his vision adjusts to the dark and he spots his brother with his back to him. Thor looks down at the bottle top he'd been tinkering with, lifting his bicep to throw it when –

“Do _not_ throw that thing at me. I'm here.”

“That hasn't been true the past few days,” Thor says.

Loki turns then, and for the first time, Thor notices the deep bags under his eyes, the tired way in which he holds himself. The bed toward the wall is untouched, unslept in. “You could bother to knock before just barging in,” Loki says dismissively, shooting a disheveled glance at Thor before deciding to give him the silent treatment.

Thor’s teeth clench with the effort not to yell. “I couldn't be certain you wouldn't disappear if I did.”

Loki is decidedly unmoved by the statement, darting his tongue out to wet dry lips.

“Why is it that you're still here, brother? You've no obligation, no desire to show yourself truly.”

His brother still doesn't speak.

Thor inches from the doorway, tries to make it look unintentional. “Do I have to get down on my knees and beg you to tell me why you've been ignoring me? Is that what it'll take?”

“Would you, dear brother?” Loki derides.

“I believe on Earth they'd call you a dick for that.”

“Then it's a good thing we've yet to arrive.”

Thor inhales a deep sigh. “I've been meaning to talk to you.”

“I've noticed. I can't possibly imagine that you have something important to say. Perhaps you want to discuss how terrific this idea of going back to Earth is? How popular you'll be and how terribly hated I'll be?”

Thor stares at Loki until he's got no other option but to look into his face. “I want to know why you decided to come back instead of staying on Sakaar.” He hesitates, but decides to include: “I wanted to thank you –”

“You've already thanked me,” Loki deadpans. “Besides, it wasn't my intention to go back to that place. It was that idiot Korg and his team of misfits’ idea.”

“But you could have easily overpowered them,” Thor says. His brother doesn't interject. “You could have decided to take this ship anywhere in the universe.”

Something changes in Loki’s face, something subtle and thrumming and detached. Thor is just glad they're talking.

“I just want to know why,” he utters, going to touch Loki’s shoulder before thinking better of it. Thor doesn't want to test just how much he's willing to take. It's a wonder he's stayed put this long as it is.

Loki laughs then, dismantling the tension. They're well-versed in diverting these things. “You think me so delicate, don't you? Maybe you were right, brother,” he utters. “Maybe I should've stayed on Sakaar. That's what you desired, isn't it?”

Thor shakes his head immediately. “I was wrong about that, brother. These people need you just as much as they need a king. You've been invaluable to them. They'd be dead without you.” _I'd be dead_ , Thor thinks.

Loki only scoffs, but Thor knows his brother well enough to know that his temper is flared up. “These people think me despicable.”

“You're their prince,” Thor says as if it's the opposite of despicable.

“By technicality.”

“Not to me.”

“Why is it that you’ve ventured down here, anyway?” Loki nearly yells, tone drenched in bitterness when he gestures toward the door. “Don't those people need their king?”

“You can pretend you don't want to see me,” Thor says. “But I know it isn't true.”

“Idle conversation has never been our area of expertise,” Loki says.

“Yes,” Thor agrees. “But things can still be different.”

There's a tick to Loki’s face that isn't quite a smile. “Here I was thinking I was the theatrical one of us. It's not often that I'm wrong. I've tried to kill you. I've disappointed you. Yet here you stand telling tales of some dead kindred spirit.”

Thor inhales once more. “Do you think me idiotic to trust you?”

“The jury is still out,” Loki says. “But, yes, I do think you idiotic. You're the only one still daft enough to trust me after the things I've done.”

There's something distinct to the way Thor tilts his head. In undeniable ways, Loki is still transparent. “Yet you're here instead of there.”

“Sakaar wasn't exactly a walk in the park the entire time.”

“Oh, yes,” Thor says. “I'm sure it was so incredibly difficult for you there. Telling stories and wine tasting all day –”

“Do you think that's all it was?” Loki interrupts. “I had to earn that place. Why don't you try bending over for the dictator of a trash planet just to gain his trust? Then tell me how simple it is.”

Thor is thrown by the intimate detail, thrown by the way his brother ducks his head when it slips.

“I didn't know –”

“Of course you didn't,” Loki interrupts. “You also didn't know it wasn't the throne I wanted.”

They stare each other down for a moment before Thor decides to drop his discretion. “I don't understand.”

“Truly shocking,” Loki utters just loud enough for him to hear it. “Really, Thor. Why do you think I spent so much time dressed as our – as _Odin_?” Loki’s face ticks, and Thor knows how difficult it is for him to let the words _our_ and _father_ form together in his throat when it's so tightened in disgust, maybe even some distorted kind of grief.

“I don't expect you to understand being the disgrace of your own kingdom,” Loki keeps going, words tumbling in the tandem desperation to be understood, to not be seen as inferior. “They didn't like me, but for whatever reason, they liked him. In that disguise? I wasn't their traitor, I wasn't their dirty leftovers. I just _was_.” Thor isn't sure Loki knows there are tears in his eyes even as his voice shakes.

“Then Sakaar? It wasn't easy there. To tell the truth, it was just as meant for me as Jotunheim. They were impressed until they weren't. But at least nobody knew me well enough to deny my place.”

Thor reaches a hand out then, letting it tenderly rest against his brother’s back. The most shocking thing is that he doesn't pull away, or that he’d told the truth. He is here, and trembling beneath his brother’s touch.

Any indignation Thor felt immediately dwindles.

“Just breathe, brother,” he tells him. He thinks there's a knot forming in his throat. “You don't have to say anything more.”

Loki turns to him, pushing a hand through the dark tresses at his temple. “You sound just like him. You look like him, too. The dismantling of a king. Tragic.”

Thor ignores the insult. His brother has always had a tendency to use thorns to disguise vulnerability. It's reverse psychology, he tells himself. It means things will be different.

“I just want to know that Odin’s death will not split up apart,” Thor utters. “Our paths should never have diverged. I need you by my side, Loki. This – being king, taking care of a people in despair – it isn't possible without you. I thought you dead on more than one occasion. Don't put us through that again, brother.”

Loki pulls from his touch, moving to pace in front of the doorway.

“That is true, I suppose,” he says after some time.

“You'll stay, then?”

“I've yet to decide, but I’ll try to.”

Thor grins, thinks the slight tick to his brother's face would be pleasant too if he weren't so damned stubborn about displaying emotion. This is one less thing he'll have to worry about. It's one less terrible dream that will come true.

“The people will grow used to your presence,” he insists. “They'll remember who it was descending upon the bifrost in their time of trouble. I guarantee they will welcome you with open –”

“ _Thor_ , you idiot,” Loki interrupts. “I didn't come back to be placed upon some imaginary pedestal or to maintain a damaged image. Haven't you any understanding of that by now?”

Thor’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Loki sighs deeply, but he doesn't turn his back when he says, “I’m telling you that I didn't do it for them. I thought of you dead, and I thought of not doing what I did and it was wrong. _I did it for you_.”

Thor doesn't think anything he would possibly say would be enough to tell his brother how important these words are to him. If just for a moment, they divert to old ways.

“This ship could be drifting for many more days.”

“I suppose there is work to be done, then.”

––

  
They walk side by side to the observation deck, tall and unfaltering in their purposeful step. They'll face every threat together.

The Valkyrie greets them with a deliberate nod when they get there. The dragonfang usually strapped to her back is noticeably missing. “Look what the king dragged out of the dark.”

“You've no idea how badly I want one of those zapping devices right now.” Loki inhales, doesn't bother to lower his voice so the warrior won't hear it.

“I bet,” she says back before Thor can interject. “Don't forget, king’s brother,” she utters lower. “I did beat you once. I'm not opposed to doing it again.”

“You didn't kill me, though. Idealistically, you would've killed me.”

“Thor would've been upset.”

Thor makes his way to the throne, resisting the urge to exhale a long sigh at the bickering he still detects behind him. Despite everything, they're here. Korg and the others from Sakaar. What's left of the Asgardians. They're here and going to a place they'll one day call home. Looking upon the darkness in the universe, Thor sees the light at the end of the tunnel. Earth is their destination. They'll see the trees again, they'll feel the breeze and not have to worry if the next breath is their last.

It's the only thing that truly matters now.


End file.
